


Of Stubbornly Sleepy Wives

by AmyNChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Beta, Sleepy fluffies, should be sleeping, they are tired, too late for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cold.</p><p>That was the first thought he had upon waking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Stubbornly Sleepy Wives

Cold.

That was the first thought he had upon waking.  Most of the time, the thought would banish itself upon finding his wife and settling back down into peaceful slumber.

This was one of those other times.

He felt around the sheets, his hands skimming the empty pillow.  It was cold.  He sighed and opened a bleary eye.  Everything around him was either dark or fuzzy, but not living.  He glanced over to the nightstand, a clock helpfully burning the time into his unadjusted retinas.

Chat Noir might have had night vision once upon a time, but that helpful quirk had never made its way into Adrien Agreste’s life.  No, the young man had been forced to live his life without the assistance of night vision.  Yet he knew his destination even without light.

Adrien pushed himself up and wobbled on his feet.  How she could stay awake at this hour was beyond him, but he knew she had most likely only pretended to be asleep until he had been out, and then left so as to finish her work.

It was not the first time this had happened.

Adrien arrived at the door to her cramped little office and waited for his eyes to readjust to the sheer amount of light.  A single bulb worked tirelessly to give her the illumination she needed, though her radiance is what blinded him.  She was bent over a mannequin, muttering to herself and shifting while she placed more pins in place and jotted down quick notes.  The dress was a project she had been working on for the past month and still needed much work before it could be worn, though her progress was, in his humble opinion, astounding.

She mumbled some more and stuck another pin in.  She pricked her finger.  She hissed at the pain before looking the fabric over again.  She tried to put the pin in.  She stuck herself again.  She scowled as she rubbed her eyes.

He walked into the room and gently placed his arms over her shoulders.  Her surprise faded quickly enough and she leaned against his chest to look up at him.  He could see the circles under her eyes.  How many times in the past month had he not caught her doing this?

“Hey, kitty,” she greeted, a lopsided smile on her face.

“Hey, bug,” he responded.  He ducked in low to press a sweet kiss to her lips.  She giggled as he pulled away.

“I thought you went to sleep,” she said.

“I thought you did, too,” he replied.  She winced at being caught.  He sighed and pressed a bit more of his weight into her, pulling her close.  She was warm and here.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to leave like that.  I just want to get this done, you know?” she asked.  He hummed in reply, his brain not quite giving him the words to respond.  “I want it to be perfect.”

“And it will be,” he assured.  He had said the same thing last night and the night before.  He had said the same thing when she had thought the project up and when he had gone with her to buy the material.  He had said the same thing when she began the beading and when she had asked him for his opinion on color.  “It’s going to be perfect because you made it and she’ll love you for it, but I don’t think she wants you to sell your life to make it.”

“I’m not selling my life,” she retorted.

He hummed in disagreement.

“I’m not.”

“You’re starting to get bags under your eyes.”

“And?”

“Mari,” he pleaded.  He looked at her, drinking in her features.  Her blueball eyes were rimmed in darkness.  Her raven hair was disheveled from stress.  Her shoulders of determination had begun to hunch in that one track determination that he loved and hated all at once.  He pressed another quick kiss to her lips.

“Adrien,” she scolded with a content chirp.  “I want to get this done.”

“And you can,” he said.  “In the morning.  You can sleep for now.”

“But I just got this idea for an adjustment!  I’ll have to change the bodice and fiddle with the skirt, but it’s a whole new idea that I can’t just ignore,” she said, turning those tired blue eyes on him.

Those eyes only told him just how tired she was.  Just how hard she was fighting sleep in favor of working on this special project.

“You can work on it in the morning, Mari,” he said gently.  “I know you.  You’ve got the changes drawn in somewhere already, right?”

She was silent after that and he let his head fall into the crook of her neck.  He could feel the tension in her neck and knew he wanted it to go away.  His hands, already crossed in front of her loosely, began to rub her arm.

“Adrien,” she began, her voice finally beginning to reflect her drowsiness.  The man peeked out from his little cranny to see that she was placing the pin cushion down. He could feel some of the tension leave her shoulders.  “I want this to be perfect…”

“And it will be,” he assured.  “I don’t know anyone with more talent and drive than you.  But you can’t make it as beautiful as you want when you’re running on only a few hours of sleep per week.  Please, bugaboo, come to bed.”

He knew the instant she made her decision.  Her head fell forward enough for her to rub her eyes and the rest of the tension truly left her shoulders.  He pulled himself up and offered a hand to his Lady.  She accepted his silent offer and they shut out the light in her office on their way to the bedroom.

There, snuggled into bed with Marinette falling into sleep the moment her head hit the pillow, Adrien felt content.  This was his life, and he was happy.

It was warm.


End file.
